Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 18~Accused Bartender

-----Willow POV---------

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I'm bored.

I ate around fifteen pieces of cheesecake. People have given me their looks. Like I care, I am very grateful that I'm not wearing those high heels and tripping around everywhere like a doofus. Apparently these people don't approve. Everyone is dancing, at least all the people I can see. I walk over to the bar. I don't usually like drinking, but tonight is an abnormal night.

"What can I get for ya darlin'? I look up at the scottish voice. It was the bartender. He is surprisingly tall, he is a slight ginger with a scruff, and by his accent it's obvious that he's from Scotland. I lean on the counter.

"I'll take a Sazerac, if you have one of course." I sigh. He raises an eyebrow and tries to hold back a laugh. I turn my head slightly raising both of my eyebrows, smiling.

"Are you sure a small lass like you can handle that strong of a cocktail?" He smiles brightly, lines form at the creases of his green eyes.

"I guess we'll find out." I shrug. I hear him chuckle under his breath as he arranges my drink.

"What are you doing?" The voice behind me makes me jump. I whip around to see the face of the flat toned voice. It's Sherlock. Of course it's him. I look up at him.

"What do you think?" I say smiling, he doesn't smile. Or respond.

"Here you are, Miss..." I turn back to the bar tender.

"Ah, thank you, and it's Willow."

"Beautiful name." He smirks and dimples dip into his scruffy tan cheeks.

"Than-" I am cut off by Sherlock pulling me away by the arm. Quickly reacting to grab my cocktail and not spilling it as I am dragged away. We hurry up the stairs.

"Sherlock, what the-"

He jerks me telling me to shut up and I oblige. I follow him up the stairs. We stop in a dark corridor where no one can be seen. When we stop I take a large gulp of the drink in my hand. The potency makes me gag. I lift the glass to see if there's anything within the liquid.

Sherlock grabs the glass from my grasp. I am about to complain, but choose it is best not to.

"We're on a case." He says after the silence. "In fact,a case that you were excited about." He points out. "Best not to drink the seventh most potent cocktail in the world." He has a crooked smile on his face.

"Well, what have we gotten so far?" I ask and without hesitation he says.

"The bartender."

"What?"

"The bartender is the cannibal." He says flatly as he stares into my eyes. I analyze his face to see if there's any sign of teasing, but there isn't.

"How?"

Sherlock inhales preparing to explain, "I mean it was pretty obvious, but he was strikingly tall, taller than me, and had a small red dot on the bottom of his lip. Showing that he had a piercing. I could see tattoos running down the side of his neck, he is heavily tattooed. All of the so far obvious, indicate that he is from a Karankawa tribe. A tribe that bathes in cannibalism."

"But Sherlock, the Karankawa tribe is formed in America and he's scottish." I cross my arms.

"The scottish is an act, his accent is too heavy. He's tan, has be from the southern United States. He wouldn't be as tan in Scotland would he?" He smirks at his victory against me.

"I guess." I admit. I smile as I see the chance to grab the cocktail from his hand. I snatch it from him then quickly start to chug it. I regret it with all my life.

I start to cough at the amount of strength within the alcohol. Sherlock is slightly surprised at his lack of attention. I hold the glass out towards him with my other hand covering my mouth. When he doesn't take the glass away I shake it a little. The ice clattering together like coins in a pocket. Jingling as they battle, clashing, and smashing into each other. Sherlock takes a hold of the glass.

"That was bloody awful!" I cough heaving for air. I look back up at Sherlock who is examining the drink. He sticks his finger into the glass and licks it. He frowns. I can see fear behind his mask.

"What?"

"Benzodiazepine." He looks frantic.

"He drugged me?!" I yell only to have it shut again by Sherlock's hand. His other hand clasps on my wrist. He breaks his fearful face with a smile.

"Just kidding." He smirks the he sighs. "You're hard to break, Willow Reed." He admits his defeat. That' a first. I am very curious on what he will choose next to test on me.

"I know I am," I brag "But let's head back to the ball room. I want to see this cannibal in action." I smirk.

We walk down the dark hallway. Sherlock's face illuminates as we pass a window.

"I did some research on you family Willow." Sherlock's words stab me over and over again. I stop walking.

"W-wh-what did you find?" I breathe sharply. My stomach burning, my head pounding with my pulse. I stare at the ground and wait for his answer. I close my eyes. Suppressing  a dark feeling that makes me want to cry. When I open my eyes I see not only my small bare feet but also a pair of large black glossed shoes. I look up at Sherlock's face.

"I didn't find anything I lied. Is that your weakness; revealing your past, your family?" His tone is flat. He's made me furious. He brought up the thought of my family just to push my buttons. Just to find a stupid weakness.

"I'm going to bed, you're going to have to go on without me on the case." I push past him and go into a random room out the hundreds of other rooms. I slam the door behind me and sit on the bed. I rub my temple with my fingers. I am still very thankful that he didn't find anything out. I don't think he'll ever give me pity, but I never hope to be given it.

John has been nicer to me ever since I told him about my family. Or at least one part of it. I'm overreacting now. I need to stop. I'm becoming idiotic.

-------John POV---------
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I almost forget about the case until I see Sherlock. I shuffle over to him. I look around but I don't see her.

"Where's Willow?" I ask pointing out that she is not here.

"Sulking somewhere."

"What happened?"

"I dug up a weakness. But I don't see a reason she should cry about it." He rolls his eyes.

"Sherlock, it's a weakness! What did you do?" I exclaim.

"I just said 'I looked up your family' and she froze." He's about to continue but I cut him off.

"Sherlock!" I yell furious. He makes eye contact with me. "Her whole family is dead! She has no one but us!" He narrows his vision onto my words. He turns his head toward the bar.

"The bartender... where did he go?" He whispers. Realization spread upon his face. He hurls himself up the stairs.  

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